


What Kind of Man

by Project_Icarus



Series: Long & Lost [3]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project_Icarus/pseuds/Project_Icarus
Summary: The truth about what happened between you and Rafe.





	What Kind of Man

It’s pouring rain. You stand here in the hotel garden, surrounded by perfectly groomed hedges and flowerbeds, letting the deluge soak you through to your bones. A while ago, one of the hotel staff had called out to you, urging you to come inside. You had ignored them. The rain is icy as it drenches your skin, but it isn’t unpleasant to you- it gives you something to focus on other than the gnawing ache of grief.  
You have been staying at the hotel for a few days at the behest of Nate and Rafe, both of them saying that you need a break, that you should relax. You’ve been trying your best, and the most you have been able to manage is a sort of hollowed-out, deadened numbness that’s almost worse than the constant pain; at least then you are feeling _something_.  
As you languish under the downpour, you think you might be on to something. Distraction seems to be key, if you can give yourself something else to feel, you might stop picking at the wound in your heart long enough for it to heal over.

“(Y/N)!”

Your head whips around at the sound of your name, barely heard over the rain coming down in thick sheets. In surprise, you see that it is Rafe that’s calling out to you.

“What the hell are you doing?” he yells.

You watch him as he makes his way towards you, his hair coming out of its hold to lie flat, plastered to his skull and dripping. Without a warning, tears spring into your eyes, feeling scorching hot against the raindrops that cling to your eyelashes.

“(Y/N)?” He’s almost right in front of you, and you can hear his shoes squelching with every step. He holds a hand out to you, “Come inside,”

Slowly, tentatively, you reach out your hand and place it in his. His hand is warm and soft against your frozen palm. He curls his fingers around yours and squeezes once before tugging you back towards the building. Your legs, stiff like rusted machinery, begin to move and the two of you walk through the garden and into the hotel lobby, hand in hand.  
As you step inside, he drops your hand and strides over to the bellboy who is standing by with a stack of fresh towels. He hands a large fluffy towel to Rafe who takes it and brings it back to you without a word. He wraps it around your shoulders.

“Let’s go up to your room,” he says softly.

As the two of you stand in the elevator riding up to the fourth floor, you sneak a glance at Rafe from the corner of your eye. The first thing you notice is that he looks so _tired_. His eyes look kind of red, and there are grey circles underneath them. There’s the tiniest hint of stubble along his jaw and that’s enough to make him seem a lot more unkempt than usual. He probably hasn’t slept properly for days, obsessing as he does over historical texts about St. Dismas and Henry Avery and anything else he can find that even remotely pertains to his search.  
The lack of sleep could explain his unusually quiet and soft approach to you tonight. Usually he has little patience for you; if you’re not being actively helpful then you are in the way, and the days when you can drag yourself to help with research are few and far between.  
You wonder why Rafe has come for you and not Nate.  
You stumble down the hallway, clutching the towel around yourself as you approach your door. Your hand is shaking too much to fit the key into the lock, and silently Rafe takes it from you and unlocks the door. He flicks the light switch and the room is bathed in a warm yellow light.  
The room is small but cosy, decorated in various shades of blue. The baby-blue patterned wallpaper is faded in some places, and the oak floorboards creak a little, but it’s still a pleasant space. You think you would have really liked staying here if the circumstances had been different.

“Why are you here?” the words come trembling from your lips.

Rafe hangs his wet coat up on the back of the door, “The hotel called me. They said you looked like you needed some help,”

You stand there awkwardly, dripping onto the floor, “I meant, why you and not Nate?”

He narrows his eyes, “You would have preferred Nathan?” his voice is nearly a growl.

You catch a flash of the fire that burns within Rafe, ever present, ever smouldering. He’s like a volcano that’s long overdue an eruption, and to your surprise, it ignites something in you. You push that thought to the side for now, to be examined later.

“No, not especially,” you say, heading into the adjoining bathroom. You grab another towel there and bring it out to Rafe, “here, for your hair,”

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” he says, rubbing his head with the towel. His hair curls under the ministrations, and it looks soft and fluffy. You’ve never seen him look so unthreatening.

You shut the bathroom door behind you and peel off your soaking clothes that cling to you like a second skin. Your skin is covered in goosebumps as you dry yourself off and you’re shivering as you wrap yourself in a bathrobe. You step back into the bedroom and find that Rafe is still here. You expected him to have left.

“You’ve been drinking,” he says, nodding his head towards the half-empty bottle of scotch on the small table by the window.

“Hey, you told me to relax,” you shrug, taking a seat and pulling the bottle towards you.

“Is that wise?” he sits across from you.

“No,” you unscrew the cap.

Lightning fast, he snatches the bottle from your grasp and hurls it at the wall behind you. It smashes into a thousand pieces and the wallpaper is stained and dripping wet.  
You flinch in your chair with a gasp, frozen like a deer in headlights. He’s gone from oh-so unassuming to tangible rage in a split second and it both terrifies you and intrigues you all at once. For one sweet, blissful moment, you had stopped thinking about Sam.

You’re still breathing heavily when you finally manage to find some words, “You’ve ruined the wallpaper,” you say at last. It’s not quite what you were going for, but at least it’s something.

“I’ll pay for them to redecorate,” he snarls.

You’re entranced by him, the way his eyes flash with fury, reflecting brown and blue. The two of you stare at each other for several long moments, neither of you daring to break the tension.  
He stands abruptly, making the table rock violently. He comes around and kneels in front of you, reaching up to grasp your chin in his fingers and turning your head to face him.

“Listen to me, (Y/N),” he says, his voice a harsh almost-whisper, “you’re going to get through this. You are not going to be ruined by Samuel Drake,” and with that, he surges up towards you and covers your mouth with his.

Your first instinct is to pull away, but he’s holding the back of your neck, holding you in place, and you find yourself responding to the kiss, your lips moving hesitantly against his. He growls low in his throat, and that’s all it takes to crumble your resolve into dust. You hold his cheeks in your hands, kissing him as fervently and passionately as you’ve ever kissed anyone. Eventually though, the moment has to come to an end, and the spell is broken. You’re thinking of Sam again.  
You move away gently, your hands dropping to Rafe’s shoulders. Your expression must be giving you away, because his eyes lose their uncharacteristic softness and grow hard again.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I don’t think I can do this,”

He sighs and once again he just looks dog tired, “Fine, continue your wallowing,” he gets up and heads to the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he turns back to you, “He’s not coming back, you know,”

\---

You turn over in bed for the hundredth time. Usually the sound of the rain would soothe you straight to sleep, but tonight it’s making you restless. It’s making you think of Rafe, dripping wet, coming to find you in the downpour. The smash of glass against the wall. Him kissing you like it was his life’s purpose.  
Squinting, you make out the time from the clock on the nightstand. It’s two in the morning. You squirm under your sheets. Your insides are wriggling and writhing, tying themselves into sailor knots and nooses. Rafe was right, Sam’s _not_ coming back. No matter how much you wish it and want it, he’s mouldering in the dirt under some jail in Panama. You’re still here, just barely, but you’re living and breathing and hurting but not healing. Rafe is alive too, warm and moving and moody and dangerous and oh so enticing.  
Before you even mean to, you’re throwing the covers off of yourself and getting up out of bed. You wriggle into your still-damp jeans and boots, and throw your coat on. You grab your keys and leave the room, walking fast along the corridors to the elevator, and leaving the lobby before your thoughts can catch up with you. You jog through the rain to your car, and then you’re on your way back to the cathedral, back to Rafe, and as far away from Sam as you’ve ever been.

\---

You drive up to the trailers and you see that the light is still on in Rafe’s. You jump out of your car and your boots splash in the mud as you walk to the door of his trailer and knock.  
A moment later the door opens and there he is, even more tired and irritated looking than he was earlier.

“Can I come in?” you say, really hoping that he’ll say yes.

He doesn’t say a word, but he stands aside, and you duck into the trailer. Once inside, you take a good long look at him. His gorgeous eyes, you can’t make up your mind if they’re brown or they’re blue, look like it’s taking a huge effort to keep them open. He’s combed his hair since you saw him last, but it’s not as neat as it usually is. He’s crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking at you expectantly.  
You’ve always thought he was something nice to look at, but never to touch. Like a tiger in the zoo- fine to admire from a safe distance, but you didn’t want to put your hand between the bars or you’d get mauled.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you say quietly.

He takes a step towards you, “You’re not going to back out again, are you?”

You shake your head, “I’ve made up my mind,”

The two of you crash together like the waves upon the rocks, your arms wrap around each other and it’s impossible to tell where you end and Rafe begins. His kisses are all teeth and tongue, and he sucks your lower lip into his mouth and worries it between his teeth and it makes you impossibly wet.

“Take me to bed,” you breathe against his lips.

He pushes your coat off your shoulders and then pulls your shirt up over your head. Taking your hands in his, he leads you to the small bed in the corner. It doesn’t look like it’s been slept in for a very long time. You sit on the edge as he kneels before you again, tugging off your boots and dragging your jeans from your legs. You sit there in just your panties, your heart thumping in your chest as you look into Rafe’s two-tone eyes.  
He stands before you, and he takes off his long-sleeved t-shirt, revealing his hard chest and stomach. He goes to undo the button on his pants but you bring your hands up to stop him.

“Let me,” you murmur, unbuttoning and then unzipping his pants. You can see the outline of his cock through his underwear. You push his pants down his hips and grab his ass, using it to pull him closer to you. It’s firm under your fingers and you can’t help but give it a squeeze before letting go to pull his cock out. It’s long and thick and you don’t think it’s even fully hard yet. You duck your head forwards and open your mouth, taking him in as far as you can without gagging.

“Look at me,” he says harshly when you start sucking him off.

You look up and meet his eyes, your lips stretched wide around his cock as it grows in your mouth.

“Good,” he says, “I want you to know who you’re here with right now,”

You swallow around his cock and his eyes slide closed. You pull off with a sloppy sound and lay back on the bed. “I need you to fuck me, Rafe,”

He climbs onto the bed, covering your body with his own. He’s so warm and strong, his body all sharp angles and lean muscle, and you scratch your nails over the smooth skin on his shoulders. He kisses your neck, sucking a mark into the skin there, bringing your fevered blood to the surface. He slides a hand down to your pussy, gliding two fingers over your clit in circles before sinking them deep inside of you.

“Do you like that?” he murmurs into your ear as he starts moving his fingers in and then out.

You squirm on his fingers, “Stop treating me nice,” you pant, “do whatever you want to me,” you want him to let himself go, you want the unbridled rage that is Rafe Adler, you want it to consume you until either there’s nothing left of you, or you’ve been reforged into something shiny and new.

He looks down at you, searching your face for something. He must find it, because his whole demeanour changes. He pulls his fingers from your cunt and stuffs them into your mouth, making you lick them clean. You suck on them, rolling your tongue around them, before he removed them from your mouth and suddenly he strikes you across the face. It doesn’t really hurt, it’s more surprising than painful, and the look in his eyes is more than worth it.  
He’s looking at you with wonder, seemingly besotted with the fact that you’re letting him do this. You nod your head almost imperceptibly, wanting to let him know that you’re okay without shattering the illusion you have going.  
He grabs your thighs and pushes them apart roughly, spreading your legs wide as he crawls in between them. Deliciously, perfectly, he doesn’t check if you’re ready before pressing his cock into your wanting little hole.  
You groan at the stretch, your pussy opening up wide to take him in. He doesn’t even give you a second before he’s pounding into you, reaching underneath you to grab your ass in both hands, pulling you up onto his dick with each hard thrust. You clutch at the pillow above you, moaning out as the bed rocks under you both with the power of your fucking.  
Rafe’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and you can see the way the muscles in his stomach are working as he fucks you. He’s moaning and panting, hammering you into the mattress with his dick. His eyes flash open and he’s baring his teeth at you in a snarl as he pulls out of you suddenly.  
Before you can even register what’s happening, he grabs your legs and pushes them up until they’re resting on his shoulders and then, leaning forward on his arms and bending you in half like a jack knife, he pushes his cock back inside of you.  
From this angle he hits so deep, and the way you’re all folded up pushes the air from your lungs on every thrust. He doesn’t let up, either, pounding you harder than before, the sounds of skin slapping together and the filthy wet noises of his cock going in and out of your pussy filling the room.  
He’s hitting your g-spot over and over and his pelvis rubs into your clit when your bodies come together and you feel like you’ve been doused in Greek fire. You’re close.  
Rafe shifts his weight onto one arm, never pausing in fucking you, and brings his hand to your throat. He squeezes the sides gently, experimentally.

“Harder,” you cry out, pleading with your eyes.

You don’t specify if it’s the choking or the fucking you want harder so he gives you both. His thrusts are fast and deep and his rhythm is getting erratic and the pressure on your throat is so beautiful that you think you’re about to come. You squeeze your eyes shut, your pussy getting tighter as you prepare for your orgasm.

“Look at me,” he groans, looking down at you with wide eyes.

You do as you’re told, and holding eye contact with him is so intense that your mouth falls open in a long deep moan.

“Say my name,” he pants, staring deep into your eyes, “say my name when you come,”

Finally, you can’t help it anymore and your eyes fall shut as your body convulses in a dizzying orgasm. “Rafe!” His name comes out as a strangled moan and as you ride out your climax you pant it over and over like a prayer.

That sends him over the edge and he practically roars as he comes, rocking into you as deep as he can get. He looks down into your eyes again, although now his gaze is soft, almost affectionate, “Stay with me,” he whispers.

***

“But I couldn’t stay with him,” you say, knocking back your drink and then taking a long puff on your cigarette, “as soon as it was over I just hated myself. Hated him too a little bit, but mostly myself,”

Sam’s face is unreadable.

“I can count the number of times it happened on one hand, and each time I just felt more and more guilty,”

“Then why did you keep doing it?” his voice is even, not giving anything away.

“I thought it was the right thing to do,” you shrug, “to get over you I thought I had to get under someone else,”

He hums in thought.

“But yeah, I left Scotland pretty soon after that, and that’s when the healing process really began,” It’s quiet for far too long and you start to get antsy, “please say something, Sam,”

He looks at you and with relief you see the love in his eyes is still there, “It was a long time ago,” he says simply.

“Are we okay?” you say quietly.

“Oh, darlin’, we are _fine_ ,”

And you are. You really, really are.


End file.
